


Science!

by inkandash



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandash/pseuds/inkandash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short 5+1 that worked its way into my brain, thank you tumblr.<br/>Darcy decided to do a Science Fair Project, as it were, that involves alcohol, the Avengers and a notepad.</p><p>I have been informed that I should have put exactly what the 5 vs 1 things are. <br/>And this is "The five Avengers Darcy gets drunk and the one she doesn't"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> So this meme shows up on my tumblr dash and suddenly I'm neck deep in a new fic. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Darcy Lewis was unexpectedly enjoying her time at Avengers Tower.

The idea of spending her last month of freedom before starting her Master’s program with a bunch of super heroes, only one of them she even kind of knew, had not sounded fun. Maybe it sounded fun to other people who haven’t ever spent time with a super hero; but after seeing the kind of damage Thor could create in a matter of days spending a month in a building, no matter how large or reinforced, with no less than six heroes sounded like a terrible plan.

But Jane had begged. She’d even pulled the ‘only non-superhero friend card’, and that wasn’t a card many people got pulled on them . . . so Darcy packed a bag and drove her sorry excuse for a car to New York.

And now here she was, in a lounge chair on the balcony of the Avengers Tower; drinking scotch that was older than she was with Tony Fucking Stark himself.

“Watcha thinking about short stuff?”

“How old is this scotch?”

“Old enough to drink itself. And then some. Why?”

She shrugged and looked up at the stars, enjoying the warm pulse of the scotch in her veins. Her thoughts drifted through the aether, thinking of the scotch, the effect it had on her, on Tony. “Would it be inappropriate to do a science fair project on whether the type of drunk a person is is determined by nature or nurture?”

Tony snorted, “Dude. You’re not even a fucking science major.”

Darcy arched one eyebrow at him and waited.

He shook his head. “You just want to get us drunk.”

“You haven’t actually answered my question.”

“It would be highly inappropriate.” Tony paused and poured more scotch into his glass and threw one of his sketchpads at her, a pen stuck in its spiral binding, “That’s neverstopped me.”

Darcy gleefully grabbed the pen and paper and looked at Tony over the top of her glasses, “Now meestah Stark, tell me about your fahzzah . . .” she said in her absolute worst German accent ever.

Tony rolled his eyes and downed his glass, “I am not nearly drunk enough for that.”

Darcy grabbed the bottle and poured him another two fingers, “Well let’s work on that, shall we?”


	2. Clint and Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy moves on in her Science!tific pursuits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! more! hope you enjoy it.

Darcy checked the time on her phone, 12:45am.

Tony had gone to cuddle Pepper, not that Darcy could blame him. The man had Grade A issues.

His exhibitionism was a known quantity, the kind of drunk he was was all over the internet. But knowing that it stemmed from his relationship with his father and feelings of inadequacy that were decades in the making, well, she was looking at him in a whole new light.

And you know, it wasn’t something she wanted to focus on.

So she grabbed a bottle of Pусский Стандарт out of the freezer and left to find Natasha.

It wasn’t difficult; Natasha liked to spend most of her alone time in the library, curled up in an armchair with a book.

“Darcy, can I help you with something?” She asked without looking up.

“Actually I’m kind of doing a project and I wondered if you could help me?” She raised the bottle as Natasha raised her head.

“What kind of project?”

“Science!”

“Tony talked you into this didn’t he?”

“Nope. It was all my idea.”

“I’m not certain if that makes it worse or better.”

“C’mon Nat, I’m just trying to get you drunk, how bad could it be?”

Natasha cocked her head, thinking, “You want to get me drunk?”

Darcy nodded, "Yeah, you game?"

"I do not get drunk."

"That's what they all say."

“OOoooooo what’s this?” the bottle was out of Darcy’s hands and into Barton’s before she realized he was even in the room.

“I hate when you do that.” Darcy said, glaring at him.

“I know.” He looked over at Natasha, “We drinking?”

She smirked and took the bottle, she deftly unscrewed the cap, then took a large swig from the bottle, “Yes we are.”

Thirty minutes later and the whole bottle, minus the three shots Darcy had taken, was gone.

Clint was lying on the floor crying, flailing his arms as he spoke, “It’s just so hard you know? Like, I have super human eyesight, and to everyone I’m just ‘the spy with arrows’ it’s like they don’t even care.”

Natasha was sitting cross-legged, perched above him on one of the tables, “I care.” Her voice was solemn, controlled, and completely sober. If Darcy hadn’t seen her drink the better part of the bottle she’d never have believed it happened.

Clint’s right arm flopped over his eyes dramatically, “They all make fun of me Tasha, they don’t even want me around.”

“I do.” She replied quietly.

Darcy had, by this point, made her way to the door. Her eye caught a bottle of Absinthe among the different liquors Tony had stashed on a shelf in the library. She snatched the bottle as she walked out of the room.

Behind her Clint pulled his arm away from his face, his eyes red and puffy, “I love you.”

Natasha slipped gracefully off the table and into Clint's arms, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have this headcanon that Natasha gets drunk, but has been trained to hide it. So she's drunk, and is not the 'one' as it were.
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr, the name's the same there and here. So yeah.


	3. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy goes in search of her next, hm, subject; Bruce.

Darcy pushed open the door to the lab. She had no idea what time it was, there were no clocks on the walls, Bruce had insisted that time was a human construct and the he needed to free himself from it in order to fully commit to his work.

Darcy thought that was a crock of shit and he just didn’t want to be expected to be places on time.

“There’s my little green fairy.”

Bruce turned to look at her, pulling his glasses down and off of his face, “Darcy. What are you doing here?”

She held up the bottle, “I’m chasing the green fairy” she paused and smirked at him, “and there you are!”

“Is that,” he put his glasses back on and squinted, “is that Absinthe?”

“Yup.” Darcy put the bottle on the table and started going through the glass cabinets looking for some appropriately sized beakers.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “What are you doing?”

She popped up from behind a labstation holding two 50mL beakers, “Science!”

Darcy put the beakers on the counter and opened the bottle, carefully measuring the peridot green liquid to the 30 mL line.

“You’re going to run chemical experiments with,” he picked up the bottle, read the label and stared at her, shocked, “Darcy this is a five hundred dollar bottle of Absinthe.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m just going to drink it,” she replied, quirking an eyebrow and lifting the beaker to her lips.

Bruce deftly reached out and took the beaker from her, setting it back in its place on the table.

“First and foremost that’s not the proper way to drink Absinthe.” He looked at her over his glasses, “Why are you here Darcy?” He asked, not unkindly.

“All my drinking buddies keep leaving me. Tony has Pepper, Natasha has Clint,” she stopped as Bruce coughed loudly.

“Natasha has what?” He asked, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his mop of hair in surprise.

“Yeah I got the feeling it was a new development.” Darcy said, her head tilted thoughtfuly. 

Bruce shook his head and smiled distractedly, “That’s good I suppose.” He looked up at her, “And so you’re here, to what? Get me drunk?”

“More or less.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” He muttered, looking at the alcohol on the table.

“You don’t think anything fun is a good idea.” Darcy whined.

Bruce looked at her, she could see him thinking things out, he finally sighed and turned away. When he came back he had a bottle of cold water and a pipette.

She watched as he carefully added drops of water to the two beakers. When he was done he spoke, “Fine. I will drink with you.” And handed her the beaker.

Darcy did a jerky little happy dance, and Bruce marveled that she managed not to spill her drink.

“On one condition.”

The dancing stopped and she looked at him suspiciously, “What’s the condition?”

“I do all my drinking in there,” he pointed to the containment unit of adamantine glass Tony had installed in the tower at Bruce’s insistence.

Darcy rolled her eyes expressively, “Fine. Can we drink now?”

Bruce walked into the room and Darcy hit the switch to close the door and turn on the intercom. He sat on the floor and raised his beaker to her, “Yes. Now we can drink.”


	4. Hulk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of drinking with Bruce Banner. 
> 
> This chapter does have mentions of past attempted rape. If that's an issue for you then I suggest reading something else.

Drinking inside the containment unit ended up being a fantastically good idea on Bruce’s part. Mostly because he was right, this experiment was a terrible idea on Darcy’s.

They sat side by side with the glass between them, Darcy watched him out the corner of her eye, “So you’re angry right now?”

Bruce shook his head and took a drink, “You caught me.”

“You don’t look angry. You’re like, the most mellow guy there is.”

Bruce actually laughed, “No I’m really not.”

“If you’re angry right now, then why am I talking to you and not Big Green?”

He looked at her, his face completely calm, “You’ve used an amp before, right?”

“Yeah, I had this one ex who liked to think his band was going somewhere, made me listen to his shitty music on weekends. Asshole couldn’t find a baseline with both hands and a map.” She tilted her head, thinking of Nate, “He gave good head though.”

Bruce chuckled, “Ok, well, if you think of emotions like an amp . . . most people run at about a two or three, and then when they get angry there’s a spike to a nine or a ten. With me so far?” Darcy nodded as she drank, Bruce continued, “I run at a pretty consistent eight, so those spikes aren’t such a big difference, I can control them a little better because I was already _right there_.”

“Huh. That actually almost made sense.” She took a drink and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, “So where’s your tragic epic love right now?”

“What?”

“You’re a superhero, yeah? It’s like . . . required or some shit. So where is she?”

“Last I checked she’s still teaching at Culver-”  
  
“WOAH!!! Hold up there Doc, what’s her name? You gotta give me her name.”

“What!? Why?”

“You know I went there right? And,” Darcy gasped, everything clicking into place, “It was _you._ You’re the reason the quad was suddenly getting relandscaped! I go to New Mexico for one measly semester and when I get back there’s all this shit on the web about monsters,” she gestured at Bruce, “and the army and Doctor Ross,” Darcy gasped again, louder and more dramatically, “Doctor Ross . . . _Doctor Ross_!?”

Bruce wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the utter ridiculousness of it all, all he knew for certain was that there was apparently no limit to what the cosmos would throw at him in any given day.

He nodded silently, not really trusting his voice.

“Wow.” Was all she said, he looked at her warily to see her holding up and empty beaker, looking back hopefully.

He sighed, running a hand though his hair, “Open the door and I’ll fix us another round.”

Darcy bounced up and hit the open door button, watching as Bruce elegantly fixed their drinks using chemistry equipment, and then passed her beaker to her as he resumed him spot on the floor in the containment unit, the door closing behind him.

“So . . . you and Doctor Ross.”

“Me and Doctor Ross.” He leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

“Did you ever meet her?” He said, not looking away from the ceiling.

“Yeah. I had her for chemistry. She was actually the one who suggested my internship with Doctor Foster.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and he looked Darcy directly in the eye, “Why would she do that?”

Darcy coughed, “There was an, um, _incident_ on campus. One got me into some trouble with the administration." Bruce’s gaze sharpened, and Darcy continued, “Let’s say it involved a rather prominent and well-respected member of the staff whose familial connections got him out of all kinds of trouble . . . and my taser.”

She took a drink, then she heard the dull crack of tempered glass breaking.

Bruce had turned green, the same shade as the Absinthe in her beaker. His clothes were shredding, popping along the seams, falling away; all the while she heard him muttering, his words slowly getting louder, “I told them. I TOLD THEM. None of my business. MY BUSINESS?!”

The Hulk turned to face Darcy, his face a mask of rage, his voice deep and vicious, “Hulk show them. This time Hulk teach lesson. HULK SMASH!”

He punched the glass wall of the unit and Darcy jumped back involuntarily. The glass held and the Hulk looked confused for a moment, then he roared and Darcy was sure he’d woken up the whole tower.

“Dude! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” She pleaded, because she was drunk enough where shushing the Hulk sounded like a good plan.

He stopped and stared at her with those enormous green eyes. “Why Hulk trapped?”

“So you don’t go all destructor on the city like the last _two_ times.”

“Hulk save city.”

“Hulk also made a nice new parking lot where Harlem used to be.” She fired back, spreading her hands out before her in a demonstration of the newer, flatter, parts of Harlem.

The Hulk scowled at her, placed one fist on the glass and leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers, “You let Hulk out now.”  
  
“Not a chance in hell buddy.”

With that the Hulk slammed himself into the sides of the cage, determined to get out. Darcy did her best imitation of ambivalence and walked to the station with the water and Absinthe. A small part of Darcy told her that another drink was a bad idea, that drinking in this situation could be disastrous at best. She shut that part of her up with two drinks; then sat down on the floor, waiting for the Hulk to stop.

Which he did. After a surprisingly short period of time too; “So what’s got you all riled up?” She asked when he finally sat down, scowling like a toddler on time out.

“Banner knew Kent.”

That stopped her cold, and there was not enough alcohol in the world to bring the warmth back.

“What do you mean ‘Banner knew Kent.’ How did he know I was even talking about Kent?”

“Betty.” Hulk sounded sad as he said it, broken, and Darcy felt bad for him.

But still, “What do you mean Betty?”

“Banner and Betty talked. Kent,” Hulk paused, struggling to link a concept to a word, “Kent . . . bad.” He said at last, his expressed clearly of frustration and failure to say what he actually meant. “Banner tried . . . school not care.”

Darcy scowled, she knew Hulk was right, but she didn’t have to like it.  
  
Kent, or Doctor Jason Kent as he was known among his peers, had been accused more than once of rape or attempted rape by a number of his female students over the years. But he’d always gotten out of it, made it go away with money or lawyers, and then Darcy happened. Doctor Kent hadn’t expected the taser, and he hadn’t expected her to stand her ground either. And when she wouldn’t shut up and take the money, he’d gone after her academically, trying to get her kicked out of the university.

It was Doctor Ross who’d stepped in, who fought to get her away from campus until it ‘blew over’. Doctor Kent was due to retire, dirty old bastard; and Doctor Ross suggested letting him do just that. The school wasn’t going to listen to Darcy, she’d known it from when they first demanded she cop to carrying a weapon on school grounds without a word about her own self-defense. The chief of police was his son; and the DA was married to one of his daughters.  
  
Leaving became the best, only, option.    
  
“It’s a shame you never got a piece of him, I would have paid to see that.” She said thoughtfully.

The Hulk smiled cruel and sharp, “Hulk hit him with tank.”

Darcy’s eyes widened in shock, “I thought he died in a plane crash! What the hell?”

The Hulk laughed, and it was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever seen him do, his smile got broader, wider, crueler, and he looked her dead in the eye as said quietly, “Hulk Smash”

“Dude, you’re my hero.” She said with a grin.

The Hulk rolled to lie down on the floor and Darcy scooted to lean her head on the glass, “So,” she began, “tell me about Betty.”

The Hulk smiled with memories of someone who loved him, and he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up so much longer and more depressing than I ever intended.  
> I don't know where all this angst is coming from . . . this was all supposed to be funny and fluffy.  
> Ugh. 's terrible.


	5. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy tries to get some sleep, and finds Thor instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why these keep being all sad and shit. It is what it is. I do hope you enjoy it though.

Darcy found her way through the halls of the tower; which was hard enough to do sober, let alone three California king sized sheets to the wind. She was thankful, then, that Jarvis was there to tell her to turn left, right, or what floor to get off the elevator on.

When she finally did make it to Jane’s room where she was staying while at the tower, she found Thor halfway through a keg of Asgardian mead and Jane nowhere in sight.

He spotted her and his eyes lit up, “Lady Darcy!”

She looked at him, confused, “Weren’t you on Asgard? The fuck are you doing here?”

Thor’s face fell and Darcy knew she’d hit on something, she changed the subject.

“Where’s your lady love?”

“She was quite joyful on my return, and she did make great show of her affection.” His brow furrowed with confusion, “But then she began speaking of Midgard fruits and galactic cores and she did leave me for her laboratory.” He took a long drink from his flagon, “She bid me wait for you.”

“I bet she did.” Darcy walked from the door into the living area of Jane’s apartment and flopped down on the couch next to Thor. He had drained the rest of his mead and was refilling it from the keg next to him. He took another long drink and then passed the cup to her.

Darcy stared into the honey colored liquid; beside her she could hear Thor sniffle. Looking up she could see whatever was bothering him was serious. Because Fucking Thor was crying.

_Well shit._

She looked into her cup forlornly, this would mean mixing alcohol in the worst way, and her stomach would not be happy about it.

But as she looked at Thor, she could see in his eyes that he needed a drinking buddy in the worst way. With a promise to herself not to drink too much mead, one she was certain to break, she took a swig and passed the cup back.

Darcy helped Thor drink his way through two flagons, as Thor polished a third all on his own she sent a text to Jane: “Mak note, get back. Fuxk.”

Darcy’s phone pinged, “You should not text while drunk. I’m having a breakthrough.”

She angrily typed into her phone, “Sock. Dammit. FUCK. Get back here. Waffles.”

This time her phone rang; Darcy excused herself as graciously as possible, which is to say, not graciously at all, and hid in the bathroom to take the call.

“Darcy, what is-”

“Shut it and listen. Your Thundercat in there is crying, ok? _Crying_. I am too drunk for this shit.”

“What? Why is he crying? What did you do?”

“What did _I_ do? Did you say anything when he showed up or did you just take off?”

“I . . .” Jane began, but Darcy was beyond caring.

“You took off. You get your ass back here right now.”

“But Darcy I-”

“Now.”

“Darcy this is important. I don’t know if you understand-”

“Is it more important than Thor?”

“What?” Darcy could hear the pause in Jane’s voice, and she knew that whatever Jane had been doing was long forgotten.

“Is. It. More. Important. Than. Thor?”

The phone went dead. Darcy walked back into the room to see Thor still bleary eyed looking at her from the couch.

“What troubles you Lady Darcy?”

She sat next to him on the couch and punched him gently in the arm, “You do man.”

Bless his heart he looked horrified by her statement, “What have I done to trouble you? Say the word and I will undo it,” he began to tear up again and Darcy was torn between crying with him and laughing hysterically.

She opted for both.

“Dude, no.” She said, giggling wetly, “You’re upset. That troubles me.”

He sighed in relief and slung one arm over her shoulders, “You are a true friend Darcy Lewis.”

“Yeah well. You’re good people.”

He looked confused, “I am not more than one person. I do not understand your sentiment.”

She chuckled, “It means you’re a good person, and that your family is good, and they did good when they raised you.”

Thor looked like he might cry again, “Are they still good if they do not want me?”

“Wait. What?”

Thor took a deep breath, “My father has expressed displeasure at my choice in Jane.”

“And by displeasure you mean . . .”

“He has banished me from Asgard for honoring my commitment to Jane.”

“Dude. Did he take your powers away again too?”

“No. He desired to, but my mother stayed his hand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do you apologize? It was not your choice, there was nothing you could have done.”

“No, I’m expressing sympathy, not apologizing.”

“I see. Then I accept your sympathy.” He was silent for a moment before asking quietly, “Does this make my father evil in your eyes?”

Darcy screwed up her face in thought, “No, not evil. _Wrong,_ that’s for damn sure. But it doesn’t make them evil, it just means he's not worthy of you." Darcy paused and bumped his shoulder with her own, "And your awesomeness.”

Thor smiled, the goofy dorky grin that Darcy loved, “I am awesome, am I not?”

“Fuck yeah you are dude.”

There was a cough at the door and Darcy and Thor turned to see Jane, smiling and weepy.

“They didn’t want you to be with me?” she whispered quietly.

Darcy got off the couch and quietly slipped out of the room leaving Thor and Jane to talk. She would find somewhere else to spend the night.

“They did not.”

“Then why did you?”

Thor reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek, losing himself in her amber brown eyes.

And then, as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe, he replied, “I could not be without you.”


	6. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hungover and disoriented Darcy meets Steve.

The sunlight was warm on her face, but unbearably bright.

Darcy groaned; she knew the feelings of a hangover all too well.

The light was always too bright.

The sounds were always too loud.

The clothes she invariably passed out in were always too tight.

She rolled away from the light to burrow further under the covers, shifting in the bed, trying to get comfortable.

The bare skin of her legs rubbed along the soft sheets.

Bare skin.

She wasn’t wearing pants anymore.

Darcy sat up in shock, groaning aloud as her head spun and she felt nauseated.

“Woah, slow down.” A low voice rumbled next to her.

She snapped her head to look and when the room stopped spinning she could see Steve.

Steve Rogers.

Captain fucking America.

Wearing sweatpants.

And nothing else.

With bed head.

And looking so very concerned.

Right at her.

“What are you doing here?” She groaned.

“It’s my room.”

“In bed. Why are you in bed with me?”

“It’s my bed.” He said, his eyes wide and innocent, only the smallest hit of a smile betraying his joke.

Darcy buried her face in her hands; hungover was bad; hungover with Steve was horrific.

“I’m going to be sick.” She muttered.

“Again?” came the concerned reply.

Darcy didn’t want to ask, but she had to know, “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

“You, um, got _sick_ last night.”

“And when you say ‘got sick’ . . .”

“Uh. In the elevator.”  
  
“Oh god.”

“And on your clothes.”

“ _Oh, god_.”

 “And on my shoes.”

“Just kill me now.”

Steve laughed, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Dude, I puked on you. That’s like, puking the Washington Monument.”

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkled at the edges and for a moment the hangover was forgotten. “I’m not _that_ old.”

Darcy choked out a laugh, “So my clothes?”

“In the laundry.”

“And did we?” She asked, looking warily at him.

Steve looked back, the glimmer of a smile playing around his lips before he said, “No.”  
  
“Did I say anything I should be regretting right about now?”

Steve rolled back to look at the ceiling and thought that over for a moment, “You didn’t say anything I would worry about.”

He sat up and looked over at her, “Tell you what, how about you take a shower and I see if you clothes are done?”

Darcy nodded and still in a daze walked to the bathroom.

As she stripped off Steve’s shirt she glanced in the mirror, her hair was a mess, the way only heavy drinking and a fitful sleep could manage. She scowled, thinking that Steve has seen her like this, then remembered that she’d puked on him the night before, so really, was bed head so bad?

She peeled off her bra and panties and slipped under the warm spray of the shower.

The water was warm and unlike any other shower she’d ever been in it held temperature and pressure perfectly; Darcy allowed herself the luxury of a long soak.

She reluctantly pulled herself out and toweled off, wrinkling her nose at the underwear and contemplated going commando when there was a soft tap on the door.  
  
“Hey, Darcy?” It was Steve, managing to sound embarrassed and intimidated about talking to her even though there was a solid oak door between them.

“What’s up?”

“I had Jane send over your clothes.”

Darcy winced, “Did she say anything?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“She said ‘it was about time’,” he paused, “Which I am _not_ going to ask about.”

Darcy resisted the urge to slam her head repeatedly on the door. She was happy about the clothes, but _goddammit Jane_.

She heard Steve retreat to the kitchen and poked her head out to see her bag sitting on the floor.

Fresh clothes and wet hair she walked into the kitchen to see Steve facing the stove. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, still not wearing a shirt, humming to himself.

“Um, what’re you actually doing here?” She asked, trying to be polite and utterly failing.

“I am making pancakes,” He said without turning from the stove.

Darcy shook her head to clear it, “No. I mean; Tony said you were touring America, helping old people cross the street and getting cats out of trees and all that.”

Steve snorted gently, “Is that what he said?”

“Yeah.” She muttered absently. The hangover was starting to get to her.

“Are you ok?” Steve asked, genuinely concerned.

Darcy groaned and collapsed into a chair, “Science can take a lot out of you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of getting bombed as science.” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly and looking at her over his shoulder, his left eyebrow arched in question. It would have been cute, and hot, if she wasn’t so damn hungover.

“Yeah, well times change. How did I get here?”  
  
“I, ah, found you? In the elevator. You looked like you had quite a time.”

“Don’t judge me.”

Steve laughed.

“What?” Darcy demanded

“My best friend used to say the same thing.” He shook his head, clearly thinking of another time and place.

“I’m sorry.” She said. And she meant it.

He turned, nodding to himself, plate of pancakes in one hand, spatula in the other and between them the most beautiful expanse of skin and muscle Darcy had ever seen.

“Pancakes?” he asked, “Best hangover food there is. Bucky used to swear by them.”

“Your friend?” Darcy asked, taking the plate and sitting down.

“Yeah.” Steve was silent for a moment, then he changed the subject, “I’ve only been drunk once, it wasn’t much fun.”

“I don’t recommend it.”

“I can’t get drunk anymore anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

They sat for a moment, quietly devouring the fluffy pancake goodness before Darcy asked what had been hovering in the back of her mind since she’d woken up next to Steve.  
  
“So if we didn’t have sex, why were you in bed with me this morning?”

Steve smirked, “You mean besides the fact that we were in _my_ bed?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “Yes besides that.”

“You asked me to stay; demanded really.” His voice turned sad, “You kept mumbling about not having anyone; that you didn’t want to be alone.”

Darcy snorted, “Sounds about right.”

“What happened?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She waved her hand at him, “Nothing, I just . . .” she looked up to see him staring at her with a look that brooked no bullshit. She sighed, “Fine. Tony has Pepper, Natasha has Clint,”

“What!?” he interrupted.

“It was a new development, _anyway_ , Bruce is all about Betty and Thor has Jane.”

She twisted her mouth, “And I have no one.”

“That can’t be-” he began but she cut him off.

“-Dude, don’t even start. Any guy I’m with? I have to lie to, _by law_. Unless he’s already in the know.” She scowled, “and I don’t see me lasting too long with an Agent.”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again, his brow furrowed.

Darcy looked down at her half eaten plate of pancakes, “Look, thanks a lot for taking care of me and making me pancakes and all that, but I’m just going to go.”

She slid her chair back and stood to leave.

“Do you want to meet up later?” He asked, looking up at her.

She looked at him sharply, “Seriously?”

Steve shrugged, “The way I figure, we’ve already slept together, the least I can do is buy you some coffee and pie.”

“But . . . _coffee and pie?_ ” Darcy says, wondering who the hell goes out for just coffee and pie.

“It’s the best date food there is.”

That stops Darcy in her tracks, “So this would be a date?”

And Steve smiles this slow and easy smile and Darcy realizes just how much trouble she’s gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting a very short epilogue, and then that's it for Science!  
> If you would like to prompt me for more, you are always welcome to do that, my askbox on Tumblr is always open.  
> inkandash


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